


Trouble

by wednesdays_pookie



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 03:16:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12832161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesdays_pookie/pseuds/wednesdays_pookie
Summary: This is loosely based on an idea I got from watching the film The Necessary Death of Charlie Countryman.It’s is predominately a Caryl story (if that’s not your jam, don’t read) but will feature multi characters/relationships.AU, no ZA.When Daryl Dixon drops everything to reunite with his estranged brother, he finds himself drawn into a dark world and to somebody who changes his entire life. An AU Caryl love story. M/C O/C.Events take place over one hot summer.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 – Friday June 30th 

Trouble  
Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble  
Trouble been doggin' my soul since the day I was born  
Worry  
Worry, worry, worry, worry  
Worry just will not seem to leave my mind alone  
We'll I've been  
Saved by a woman  
I've been  
Saved by a woman  
I've been  
Saved by a woman  
She won't let me go  
She won't let me go now  
She won't let me go  
She won't let me go now

##

 

“The fuck we doing here, Merle?!” hissed Daryl through clenched teeth.   
Merle shifted in his seat, a red leather tub chair and rolled his eyes, “Relax, little brother. We're gettin’ us on the payroll here. Just let me do the talkin’. Like always.” He puffed out his chest and grinned.   
Daryl sighed, shook his head to himself and began to chew on the thumbnail of his right hand. How had he ended up sitting in an identical chair to his brother, in the swanky office of the town’s newest nightclub? The douche bag sitting next to him was the answer. Merle’s left leg began twitching up and down, probably restless for the next hit of meth or a sip of whiskey.   
“Now, boy,” Merle began, seemingly oblivious to his moving limb. “When he gets in here, we tread carefully. I've heard he's a fucking psycho. He's into some big shit.”  
Daryl dropped his hand from his mouth, this guy must be crazy if even his brother thought it, “Then let's just get the fuck outta here. I can get work on a construction site or in an auto shop or somethin’. You get caught up in anythin’, you know you're going back to jail.”  
Merle grimaced, “Yeah, but jobs like that ain't gonna pay enough. Can't be waitin’ on no minimum wage shit. I need cash, lots of it and fast. The guys I owe it to are worse than this guy. They don’t fuck around.”  
“Jesus, Merle,” Daryl rubbed his eyes with the fingers of his right hand. “Wish I hadn't answered my cell, you fuckin’ sack o’shit.” His anger, already simmering, flared . “Where the fuck is this asshole, anyways?!”  
Merle sucked at his teeth, “He's a busy man, it's early yet. You got a hot date or somethin’?”  
“Fuck, no,” Daryl snapped, “Jus’ don't see why we're sittin’ here like we're waitin’ on the school fuckin’ principal.”  
He clenched his jaw and remembered back to last week, when he had been living his life as usual before he'd answered a call from Merle. His older brother had tangled with the wrong people and he'd begged for Daryl's help. They hadn't seen each other for twelve years, the younger Dixon having moved to Florida and assembled a life there, renting an apartment, and working as a mechanic.   
Merle owed money to the type of people who didn't offer affordable payment plans, and Daryl had agreed to pack up and move to this sleepy backwater after his brother begged for his help.   
Woodbury, Georgia was a town which belonged in some made for TV movie, it looked the picture perfect small American town, he'd marvelled at how his big brother had come to live here. Merle had gotten a job with a guy named Philip Blake, who effectively ran the town with his money and influence.   
Then Blake had mysteriously disappeared whilst mountaineering in the Rockies. Though his body had never been found, he'd been presumed dead for eighteen months. Merle then found himself unemployed from his well paying role as a supervisor in Blake’s construction business.   
As the bleakness settled over him, he descended down the dark and familiar path of drink, drugs and debt. This path led to the humiliating step of contacting his estranged brother in desperation. Merle Dixon did not want to meet an untimely death, nor did he want to return to prison although he had more than enough enemies in that world who would be very happy to see him.   
So here they sat in Lucille’s, the only nightclub in town. It had originally been a warehouse on the outskirts of town but now after millions of dollars worth of renovations, it was an ultra modern, two floored venue for partying and had the capacity to host music gigs. The manager’s office had steel grey walls, adorned with modern art prints, a plasma TV screen hanging along one wall. Another wall was a floor to ceiling window which looked down onto the street below and offered views of the town beyond. The desk in front of them was a heavy wooden one in dark oak, the wing backed chair behind it, the same shade of red leather as their seats.   
Daryl's decision to abandon his life in Florida had come relatively easily. He had a job and a place to live, but he had no family there, no kids or wife and his main friends were barely more than acquaintances and drinking buddies. He had often allowed his mind to travel back to his brother, who he had last seen in the trailer they had shared in a different, less quaint, dead-end town in Virginia. Daryl had been twenty five, no hope and very tired.   
Tired of following Merle around from one scheme or disaster to another, lying, sneaking and hiding from responsibilities. They drank too much, fought anyone who glanced at them the wrong way and frequented the cells at the local police station more than they did their own home. Enough had become enough, one of them or both would end up dead or indefinitely imprisoned. Daryl had longed to break out on his own since he had graduated high school, not long after their father had drunk himself into an oblivion.   
One March morning, after his brother had been missing in action for three days, he had pulled out an ageing map of the States and stuck a pin in it. Florida. He had packed the few possessions he cared about and informed Merle, nine years his senior of his plans. Half expecting his older brother to tag along, Daryl had been surprised at how well Merle had reacted, although he had just inhaled the most potent weed he'd ever laid hands on.   
Now here he was, fast approaching forty, holed up in a town in the backside of nowhere, jobless, running out of cash and living with his older brother in yet another trailer. He sighed, their father had always maintained that they'd amount to nothing. Daryl had nothing to show for his life, even after leaving his brother behind and he'd barely bid goodbye to anyone he'd left down south.   
The only thing he missed was the beach, despite being terrified of water during his youth after an incident at the local lake involving his asshole brother, he had learned to swim in the ocean and had mastered the art of surfing on the open waves. The sea expected nothing of him; the waves didn't ask him to work overtime, they didn't want him to go out drinking every weekend, nor did they care if he got laid regularly, chasing any piece of ass, taking up notches on the bedpost and they certainly didn't want marriage or kids. He just had to remember to stay afloat or kick up to the surface or swim for shore.   
Merle chuckled, “Maybe you need to find yourself a good fuck buddy. Work some’a that tension off of you.” He raised an eyebrow. “Let ol’Merle introduce ya to some real friendly types.”  
“I don't need no fuck buddy. And if I did, I'd go get one on my own.”  
“Sure ya would, Darlina,” smirked Merle reverting back to his favoured nickname for his brother, “You always had a pretty face but struggled in sealin’ the deal. You could learn a thing or two from me.”  
Daryl turned and glared, “Yeah, well, I been doin’ jus’ fine all these years. With all your shit, I don’t need no shit of the female variety right now. Ok?”  
Merle smiled, his leg ceased jiggling and he folded his arms, regarding his brother. “Spoken like a true Dixon. Feelin’s and relationships ain't worth shit. Women are only good for one thing. You let one of ‘em in here,” He tapped his temple with a meaty finger, “an’ you is fucked up for good. We don't need nobody. Ain't nobody there for you ‘cept me, don't you ever forget that.”  
Daryl opened his mouth to reply when the door to the office burst open.   
“Gentlemen!” boomed the voice of the man before them.   
Negan Miller grinned and shut the door behind him with a jerk of his foot. He looked to be in his mid forties, handsome, with an air of extreme confidence. His black hair was shaved short at the sides, but longer on top and like his beard, was peppered with grey. He wore a short sleeved black dress shirt which exposed the tattoos running up his arms and black slacks with black cowboy boots on his feet. He had the healthy glow of having enough money to look after himself but his brown eyes glimmered with a dangerous edge.  
Daryl felt his heart sink, he already disliked this person, just from the man’s notable swagger. This was not uncommon, Daryl Dixon disliked most people, although occasionally there were a few he managed to tolerate. First impressions of this swaggering, smug man did not bode well. Merle smiled at the owner of Lucille's and his potential new employer before giving Daryl a look which reiterated that the elder Dixon should lead the conversation.   
“I'm sorry to keep you waitin’. Had a little situation to take care of,” declared Negan, moving around the desk and seating himself in his chair. He leaned against the back of it, placed his left arm on the arm rest and studied each of them. “What can I do for you? Simon informed me you have a proposition?”  
Simon Gardner was Negan’s second in command, whom Merle had befriended over the past few weeks with the aim of gaining employment. Simon had gradually revealed the specifics of Negan’s businesses and the nature of his organisation, including how well it paid. Once Daryl had agreed to move to Woodbury, Merle had set about arranging to meet Negan to offer their services.   
Merle relaxed and began his pitch, “My brother and I were hoping to offer our services to you. Simon thought you could use our expertise, he said a coupl’a guys had moved on and you were short of muscle. Now, I ain't no stranger to getting’ my hands dirty and we're both more than able to work without drawin’ attention to ourselves. Goes without sayin’ that we work with the utmost confidentiality.”  
Negan frowned and rubbed his chin, studying the man before him, “You're Merle Dixon, right? Used to work for Blake?”  
“That's right.” Merle nodded, “Daryl just moved here after livin’ down in Florida. I been here for a while, used to work as supervisor at Blake construction, amongst other things.”  
“Hmm,” Negan narrowed his eyes, “Its true, I am struggling with being two guys light. It's a pain the ass, right now, I can tell ya. And Simon recommended you, I mean, I trust that guy like he was my own brother,” he looked from Merle to Daryl. He took a deep breath and his face instantly became menancing, “You both prepared to do whatever I fucking ask, whenever I fucking ask?”  
“No question,” Merle nodded, side eyeing his brother. Daryl nodded.   
“Ok,” Negan sat forward and placed his forearms on the desk, threading his fingers together. “I'll give you a month’s trial. Got a job for you, Merle,” he reached behind the desk and opened a drawer, “Need you to go pay a visit to Shane Walsh.”  
“The cop?” asked Merle, sitting up in his seat.   
“That's right,” Negan smiled and produced a small brown envelope. “Need you to go deliver this to him,” he pushed the envelope across the desk to Merle “Here,” he said, producing a cell phone from the same drawer. “This cell is to be used for work purposes, I will contact both of you on that whenever I got a job come up. Walsh’s address is in there. This is a regular arrangement, he knows to expect it so there shouldn't be any problem. Any fuck ups, though, and, well, you get punished. Both of you. There are rules and you will both play by those fucking rules. My rules.” He slid the cell phone across the desk and leaned back once again in his chair. “You understand?”  
“Yes,” replied the Dixon brother simultaneously. Daryl realised his jaw hurt from clenching it so tightly.  
Negan grinned, “Good!” he declared, “I like a smooth working relationship, hate having to iron out any issues. Now, Dixon number two. You got a job to do for me too.”  
Daryl clenched his jaw again, ignoring the ache and stared at the man before him.  
Throwing his head back, Negan laughed, “You got a don't-fuck-with-me attitude, I like it! But pin your ears back and listen to your instructions.” He turned to Merle, “You came across Simon in Jimmy’s Bar, yes?”  
Merle nodded, unsure of what was coming.   
“Ok, Daryl? Was that your name?” asked Negan, a grin curling at the corners of his mouth.   
Daryl replied, “Yes.”  
Negan studied the brothers again. Merle looked like your average redneck rogue, buzz cut, stubble, leather vest and jeans, tattooed meaty arms, burned red from exposure to the Georgia summer sun, around the same age as Negan himself.   
The younger one was handsome, his light brown hair longer at the front, swept across his forehead to avoid his eyes, the back of his hair brushed the collar of the sleeveless black denim shirt he wore. His face was naturally closed off, his eyes cold, and looked as ready to snarl as he was to smile. Those blue eyes narrowed slightly now, defiantly staring at Negan as he crossed his muscular tanned arms across his broad chest. Negan was used to people offering to work for him, but these two appeared to have an air about them which could prove to be exactly what he needed.   
“I need to give you some background first, listen up,” Negan stood and crossed to a filing cabinet. “Can I get either of you a drink?” He turned back to them, brandishing a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.   
Merle perked up, “Yes please,” he replied.   
“Naw,” answered Daryl, arms still folded.  
Negan snorted, produced three whiskey glasses and poured three fingers worth of the amber liquid into each. He handed one to Merle who immediately took a sip, like he'd been dying of thirst. Daryl accepted his reluctantly, holding it in his hand and watching their new boss. Negan threw his whiskey back and poured himself another before taking his seat again.   
“Either of you guys married?” he asked, concentrating on his glass and swirling the liquid around it. He looked up as both Dixons shook their heads. “Very wise. Very fucking wise indeed.” Negan glanced up and focussed on Daryl, “You are to go to Jimmy’s bar and get yourself employed there as a bartender. They're advertising for one.”  
Daryl looked confused and turned to look at his brother who was draining his drink. He looked back to Negan, “What?”  
Negan smiled, standing up to take centre stage while recounting his story, “Jimmy’s used to be mine. The woman who claims to own it now is my wife. Well, ex wife. She fucked me over in more ways than one almost a year ago. I want that bar back. So, I want you, Daryl, to go work there, observe what goes on day to day, who she's friendly with, how much that place takes, any plans she has for the business and so on. I want to know who she's fucking too, I want you to be my man on the inside. I'm gonna take it back. All of it.”  
“Does she know you want that place back? Won't she be suspicious?” Daryl was not at all keen on the idea of this job. It sounded ridiculous.  
Negan grinned wolfishly, “She's smart, she's as sharp as a fucking razor blade. I've tried to get to her before in other ways, of course. This just came to me, like a flash of fucking inspiration! And you being a stranger in this shit town is fucking perfect. Simon usually drinks in there, keeping an eye on things, but he ain't gonna get far, she knows him. You're a new face, entirely fucking plausible and you're looking for a job. Plus, I'll pay ya, she'll pay ya. Think of it as double time. What do ya say?”  
Merle caught Daryl’s eye and nodded his head slightly.   
Daryl took a deep breath. “So what exactly do you want to know?”  
“Everything,” Negan spread his hands and smiled, “Get close to her, not too close, obviously, or you'll lose that pretty face of yours,” his smile dropped and his eyes became hard, “I know Walsh is sniffing around her. If he knows what's good for him, he'll back the fuck off. Gain her confidence, Daryl. Learn the business, her schedule. I want regular updates. She's my girl but she's gotta learn, she ain't fucking with me publicly like she has without serious consequences.”  
Merle cleared his throat, “I'm already a regular in there. Now I know your connection to the place, I can keep my eyes open and ear to the ground for ya too.”  
Negan slapped the desk with his hand, “Now that's what I like to hear!” he bellowed, “Taking the fucking initiative. I think you guys will be a valuable addition to my team! Now, if I were you Daryl, I'd get yourself along to Jimmy’s and enquire about that job as soon as. I'll text you on that cell in a few days, see how you're getting on.” He glanced at his expensive watch, “Come back here, Monday afternoon at five, Simon will sort out the money side of things. It's almost opening time, got to get on. Hope you fellas don't mind wrapping this meeting up?”  
Merle stood, “No sir,” he held out his hand, “Thank you for givin’ us this opportunity. We won't let ya down.”  
Negan shook Merle’s hand then reached for Daryl’s, who had raised himself from his seat, “You'll learn the hard way, if you do.” the older man warned, giving Daryl a steely look. He kept hold of the younger man's arm and leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “Whatever she tells you, however she acts, do not be fooled. She's not to be trusted, she's a goddamn force of nature.”   
Daryl regarded Negan and pulled his hand away, remaining silent and his expression was neutral.   
Merle headed out of the office followed by his brother. They left by a narrow carpeted corridor which led to a stairwell with the back door at the bottom. A young boy in his very early twenties stood with the door open at his back, smoking a cigarette. He nodded politely to the brothers as they passed him, heading for Daryl's truck.   
Once there, Merle grabbed Daryl's arm. “Listen, ima go deliver this shit on foot. You take the truck back home, then I'll meet ya in Jimmy’s in an hour.”  
Daryl scuffed his boot against the gravelled parking bay. “What the fuck have I just got into, Merle? Spyin’ on some woman? I ain't gonna be no good at it.”  
“Listen, brother, all you gotta do is make sure you get that bar tender job. No one knows you here, you can be whoever you like, so pretend you're Prince Charmin’ and get the girl to fall under your spell. Tell the boss what she tells you. Don't overthink it. Just remember whose side we is on.”  
Daryl kicked the gravel, “What the fuck are we even thinkin’?! Let's just go, get our shit and find some other shitty town to fuck up in.”  
Merle sighed, leaned against the truck and lit a cigarette. He offered one to his brother who accepted. “Look,” the elder Dixon began, taking a drag, “I skip town, the trouble I'm in will catch up to me ten-fold. I ain't ever been against running when the shit hits the fan but now we agreed to work for the Godfather in there, if we disappear, we can add him onto the list of pissed off psychopaths who want me dead.” The elder Dixon expelled smoke through his nose, “You see the local paper yesterday?! The poor asshole they dredged up from the lake? That was the last guy who tried to cross Negan. Used to work for him. We're in too deep now, little brother. Sold out souls to the big bad.” He took another deep drag on his cigarette.   
Exhaling a stream of smoke, Daryl shuffled around and leaned against the vehicle beside his brother. There was a feeling that Merle was holding something back, some other reason why he hadn't just left when the going got tough. Daryl watched as the kid who had been smoking in the doorway, threw the butt to the floor amongst a thousand identical stubs and pulled the heavy door closed behind him with a bang.   
“You know who this ex is?” he asked, folding his arms while checking the time on his watch. 7:30pm. The night was young but it held no promise now he had to contemplate taking part in this ridiculous charade for money.   
Merle shrugged, “Ain't never really paid no attention. I heard of Negan's reputation around town for years. He never got along with my old boss. Heard on the grapevine, they was havin’ some kind of turf war or somethin’. Never knew Negan was married til the local jungle drums started beatin’ but I ain't interested in that shit. There was some scandal from what I can remember but it was months and months ago and I don't know nothin’ bout that.”  
“But you go to that bar on the regular?”  
“I only started goin’ in coupl’a months back to get talkin’ to Simon. Find out what his boss was into, see if I could get into it. Don't even know what the wife looks like, there are a few ladies work the bar.” Merle rubbed his chin, “They're all fine pieces of ass too, least you'll have somethin’ to look at if she's one o’them. Almost jealous I ain't got the job.” He chuckled slightly.   
“You do it then,” Daryl snapped, dreading the thought of the task ahead. If this ex wife of Negan's was attractive, he'd fall apart. He could barely interact with other people as it was, a beautiful woman would render him mute and bashful.   
“Can't,” replied Merle, finishing his smoke, “You heard the boss. You're the new guy in town and pretty enough to look trustworthy to boot. You just gotta work on the charm offensive.”  
Daryl sighed, “Why the fuck is he so bothered if they've been divorced best part of a year? If she's so fucked up, he's best rid of her.”  
“Pride, brother,” explained Merle, “Met dozens of guys like him over the years. Man like that is used to gettin’ what the fuck he wants, when the fuck he wants it. If she left his ass and took his business, he loses face. Not just with the assholes that work for him, but his enemies too. He won't like the humiliation of bein’ dumped neither. Can probably get any pussy he wants, but there's no way any chick is walking away from him without any comeback. Guys like that can't take rejection.” Merle reached across and patted his brother on the shoulder, “Don't overthink this shit. Just do what he asked ya. We need the money. This works out, I'll pay the fuckers chewin’ at my heels sooner and you'll be able to take off again. Now, get in the truck and I'll meet ya at Jimmy’s”  
Daryl nodded reluctantly. He climbed into the cab and watched his brother set off on foot on the road leading to the new housing development in town. He had the feeling they had just signed their souls away to the devil. 

***


	2. Chapter 2

Daryl sat at the bar in Jimmy’s and waited for Merle. He flicked his hair from his blue eyes and took a sip of his root beer. Glancing around, he caught the appreciative looks from the women around him. The place was busy, with a mixture of younger groups as well as older, and a number of couples dotted around. The bar and all of the tables were shiny dark wood, stools and chairs were upholstered in leather of dark forest greens and burgundy. Along the back wall was a set of booths with shelves of books above them, as though part of a gentleman’s study or an old university library. Lighting was subdued and the place seemed to be well maintained, it was far from the hive of villainy Daryl had imagined.   
He was avoiding alcohol tonight mainly due to having to enquire about the bar tender vacancy. Plus, to him, being drunk more often than not led to trouble or quick, impersonal sex in a stranger’s apartment or motel, if they made it there. There would be no hook ups tonight.   
He had decided to try to break his past behaviours, no being a grouchy, monosyllabic, bad tempered loner and no anonymous encounters. He had some experience with the opposite sex after all, he was a man with needs and urges but it never made him feel anything. His body reacted naturally of course, he had just never experienced sex with someone he genuinely liked.  
Sporadic nights spent with interchangeable women, he had little intention of committing to anyone. He purposely chose those he knew were pliable, although he was often drunk, he could tell which were looking for hook ups. Those who didn't want to know about his childhood or his family or his hopes or dreams. He was happy to use and discard them; it was the only way to remain safe from being hurt. Sometimes he even used a false name and created fabricated backstories just as an extra layer of protection. Love made you weak, vulnerable and always ended with a world of pain from what he'd seen.  
He had observed friends suffering from broken hearts and he had no desire to even entertain the possibility of risking himself that way. After years of practice, he had made himself bulletproof, immune to Cupid’s arrows. He had a headache of a life as it was with his brother and new employment status.   
The music was not as loud as it usually was in bars like this, but his boot-clad feet tapped out the rhythm on the floor. Back at the trailer he had grabbed a quick shower and a change of clothes. His black jeans were new and he wore a tight fitting white t-shirt under his battered leather biker jacket, the back of his hair falling just over the collar at the base of his neck.   
His eyes scanned the personnel behind the bar; the two bar tenders were male and there was a tall heavy set man with a mullet setting up the decks of the DJ booth.  
The song ended, another started up and that was the moment the entire course of his life changed. When he looked back later, he could pinpoint exactly when his life’s philosophy completely shattered into pieces.   
He felt a presence at his side and turned, hoping to see his brother returned from his task.   
It was a woman. Just an ordinary women, probably, to everyone else in this place, but when her eyes met his, his stomach jumped up into his chest and his heart pounded in his ears. He'd seen romantic movies in the past, he'd heard people describe falling love and experiencing love at first sight but he'd always labelled those tired cliches as bullshit.   
Bewilderment seized him because he was experiencing all those cliches at that very minute. It was difficult to even comprehend that he, Daryl Dixon, the island, eternal bachelor could meet someone capable of rocking his world. He had an out of body sensation at the shock of it, as if he was standing beside himself watching it unfold, Cupid had finally snagged him good.   
She must have felt his staring, her head turned and two drops of ocean blue met his gaze. She gave a polite but puzzled smile and turned to order a drink. She was leaning over the bar, conversing with the male bar tender.  
His eyes roamed her face in profile as she talked to the bartender and travelled down her body. She wore charcoal jeans that hugged every curve of her lower body, they had horizontal rips at the knee and she wore black heeled pumps. Her black top was slashed across the neck, hanging down from her right shoulder, exposing her pale creamy skin. Shiny wavy dark hair fell down her back, layered at the front so that it fell across one eye. He watched almost mesmerised as she tucked her curtain of hair behind her ears which were adorned with shimmering silver drop earrings. She took her drink from the barman and turned in his direction again.   
“Can I help you?” she asked coolly. Her blue eyes were emphasised by her makeup, they looked like two pools of the sea he'd come to love and he could quite happily drown in them. Daryl had never had a ‘type’ of woman, most of the time, as long as they had the necessary equipment to meet his needs, he didn't care what colour hair they had or their body type, any one would do, like closing his eyes and sticking a pin in the map as he had done when deciding where to take flight to all those years ago.   
He had heard his old acquaintances back in Florida talk about women with beautiful eyes, and how they could bewitch a man. That had been another cliché he had filed under bullshit. Until now.   
“Oh, sorry,” he moved toward her slightly so that she heard him, “I thought you were someone else.”  
She tilted her head and studied him. Then she leaned in and he caught her scent; fresh and clean, mingling with some tantalising feminine perfume, “Well, I am sorry to disappoint you.”  
“Who said I was disappointed?” he marvelled at his reply. Was someone else reading him these killer lines? Fell into one of those romantic comedies? He had no idea how to flirt but that sounded suspiciously like it.   
She laughed softly and sipped her drink, before placing it back on the bar and turning back to him, “I've never had any complaints before, I must admit.” She raised an eyebrow as he flushed slightly.   
“I can imagine,” he said, stumbling slightly over his words.  
Her cell pinged a text message. She swiped it and read, her brow furrowed. She typed a quick reply and placed it back in her purse. “Change of plan; gotta go.” She gathered her own biker style jacket and stood.   
“Now that is disappointing,” Daryl said, staring at her again, feeling electricity crackle the air between them.   
She stared back, “I'm sure a guy like you will find a way to work through it.” She slipped her toned arms into her jacket and pulled her hair free once it was on her back. The clean scent of her travelled across to him again and he had to dampen the sudden urge to pull her closer to him.  
“Hey, what's your name?” he asked, desperate to know.   
She gave a killer smile, complete with dimples, “If you're meant to know, maybe we'll meet again.” Then she turned and walked away, leaving him staring after her. 

***


	3. Chapter 3

“The number you are calling is out of service or switched off. Please try again later.”  
“Fuck!” Daryl spat, and slammed his phone down on the table. He glanced at his watch, knowing it was only a minute later than the last time he looked. 10:30pm and Merle had yet to arrive at the bar. The music had changed from commercial chart songs, thanks to the tunes the DJ was spinning in the far corner. Daryl was grateful for the increased noise, it made conversing harder. In two and a half hours, he had moved on to bottled beer and forgot to feel uncomfortable at propping up the bar alone. After all, he was new in town and he didn't know anyone well enough to care if they judged him. Of course, he didn't have to be on his lonesome, he'd had to fend off pick up lines from a handful of women, and a couple of guys even. Although he had switched to alcoholic beverages, he was sticking to his resolution to avoid hooking up.  
He tried Merle's number again to be rebuffed with the same message. Well aware that his brother was unreliable and most likely propping up another bar somewhere, Daryl felt a twinge of concern. Merle was old enough and ugly enough to look after himself, but the younger Dixon felt there was more to his brother’s current predicament than he was currently disclosing. So here he sat, worrying like suburban mom over her only child’s first independent excursion, checking the door every few minutes after making sure he hadn't missed a call or text.   
Daryl grabbed his cigarettes and headed to the smoker’s area which was located just outside of the main door. After lighting up, he blew smoke up to the sky and took in the view of the stars. For a second, his mind hovered above the rabbit hole of lamenting how he came to be where he was and how he came to live the life he did. He dismissed those thoughts almost as soon as they appeared. A couple of other smokers came to stand under the awning as a pleasant breeze swept across them and the thud of music from nearby bars vibrated through the air.   
Jimmy’s was situated on the main street of the centre of town, with two strips of shops, official buildings, such as the Town Hall, and bars facing each other across a grass verge which separated them and quaint benches dotted around.All of the bars were lit up on this hot summer night, with some patrons spilling out onto the grass and onto tables set up for al fresco socialising. A steady stream of cabs and cars travelled up and down the street, it was a hive of activity. Daryl leaned back against the window of the bar and spent a moment watching all the people around him. He liked observing from the outside, it helped maintain the walls he had built up and often reassured him that avoiding close relationships was the best choice.   
A figure made it’s way down the Main Street, weaving and stumbling with one arm held close to its body. It was more than likely a drunken reveller, but something about that figure peaked Daryl's interest. Pushing himself off the window, he stubbed out his cigarette butt on the mounted receptacle and threw it in the trash, his eyes locked onto the figure as it got closer. He left the smoker’s area and out onto the sidewalk, unable to head back inside until he knew why the person, now a few feet from him, seemed so familiar.   
“Ssshhhiiittt!” Daryl exclaimed as the figure came into focus and he hurried forwards.   
Merle Dixon collapsed into his brother, his face a mess of blood which wept down onto Daryl's white t-shirt. The older Dixon kept his right arm tucked into his body, instead using his left to hold onto Daryl.   
“What the-“ started Daryl as his brain tried to make sense of the situation. He was dumbfounded for a second; Merle was emitting a strange whistle of a wheeze when breathing and his clothes were covered in blood, dirt and grass.   
“Merle?!” he asked when his mind had caught up.   
His brother mumbled, coughed and spat something which looked in the dark to be blood, possibly containing a tooth, out onto the sidewalk.   
Daryl struggled under the bulk of Merle sagging into him and his mind raced. He looked out, surveying the road and the sidewalk around them, as if for some clue as to how to proceed. He should take his brother to the ER, but considering the company Merle kept, whatever had happened to him may have occurred whilst doing something not entirely legal.  
“Hey,” came a voice from behind the two Dixon brothers, “Hey! You need some help?”  
Daryl shuffled around as Merle groaned with a wet gasp, his eyes fluttering.   
A young Asian kid stood before them, dressed entirely in black, a dress shirt, tie and smart trousers with shiny shoes finishing it off. Daryl noticed the boy had an electronic fob hanging from his pants pocket. He looked nervously from Merle to Daryl, then gave a questioning look.   
“Yeah,” replied Daryl, trying to edge his brother forward.   
“Okay, well come on, get him inside,” the kid motioned with his head in the direction of Jimmy's.   
“The bar?” Daryl questioned as Merle's weight seemed to double and he worried that his brother was unconscious.   
“Yeah. I'm the assistant manager in there,” explained the kid, eyeing Merle worriedly, “Someone ran in and said there was an injured guy outside. We have a First Aid kit in the office, but I'm not sure how effective an alcohol wipe will be in this case. He probably needs a doctor.” He grimaced as he took in the state of Merle's face.   
“Nah,” Merle emitted, trying to raise his head and focus on the boy in front of them, “No doctors.”  
“Follow me, we'll see if we can clean you up,” the kid turned and made his way inside, as Daryl helped manoeuvre Merle after him.   
They entered and took a sharp left at one end of the bar, pushing through a heavy fire door. To the right of the door was a staircase, narrow and dimly lit, although the beige coloured walls brightened the area up somewhat. Merle hissed with every step and it took five minutes to navigate, Daryl now beginning to sweat with the effort and the heat from his brother. At the top of the stairs was a small square landing and another door to the right.   
The Asian kid held open that door and once they were through and it had closed, the thuds of the dance music in the bar downstairs was drowned out. Another beige corridor led to three doors, two on the left and one on the right. The right one held a plaque, indicating it was a bathroom, and beside that door was a set of twelve grey metal lockers, four of which had their doors hanging open.   
Both of the doors on the left were ajar, the farthest room looked to have a small kitchen area, a coffee table with two bright pink fabric sofas around it, as well as a dining table and chairs near the far wall. The walls of the room were painted black and adorned with band posters, canvases of old movies and actors as well as photographs of groups of people.   
The room the Dixons were led into was an office of sorts. Daryl marvelled at it as he and Merle deposited themselves on a black leather couch which had seen better days, although it was undeniably comfortable. The sofa cushions were brightly coloured and held the images of The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Elvis and Michael Jackson.   
There was a desk but it was cluttered with coffee cups, magazines, books which were open and placed cover up on top of sheets of paper as well as an ash tray or two. The walls were black here too, shelves on the walls held an array of strange objects, as if someone collected any oddities they came across in thrift shops or yard sales. There was a large figure of a Star Wars character, though Daryl had no idea who it was, maybe the bad guy as it was dressed in black. He saw an old retro Walkman laying next to a sparkly grey skull ornament that doubled as a vase from which a bunch of lillies emerged. A novelty lamp was switched on, it was a figure of Marilyn Monroe, holding onto a lamppost which held the bulb and an ivory coloured lampshade. Movie memorabilia, pop culture items, makeup, nail polish, perfume bottles and jewellery adorned those shelves too, and Daryl was reminded of his grandmother’s trailer.  
Their mother’s mother had a vast collection of all types of clutter, crystal balls, rosary beads, glass ornaments and trinkets. She'd told stories about each and every one of them; some had been secured from haunted houses, so she said, and Daryl had always listened enraptured to each tale she spun. He had loved his time spent with her while still young enough to believe that a bottle of holy water would fend off demons and ghouls. That was until she passed away and his mother simply swept all of those objects into the trash.   
“Let me find the First Aid box,” the kid muttered, spinning on his heels and heading for a battered bookcase at the back of the room. He sighed, “Sorry about the mess.”  
“Organised chaos?” Daryl asked, taking note of the state of the desk and the bookcase for his new employer.   
Merle slowly leaned into him. “I’m a’ight,” he stammered, using his tongue to feel around his swollen mouth, making blood from his nose flow afresh.   
“Here,” said Daryl, leaning across to the desk and pulling at some tissues in a box. He noticed some of the sheets of paper were blueprints of plans for interior design. Someone had annotated them with swirly handwriting, some of the notes underlined and scored though. He glanced around at their host, wondering if he should snap a photograph of the plans for Negan, but the kid was approaching, brandishing a canvas bag.   
“My boss has a certain method of operation,” admitted the boy, he shrugged, “I learn to live with it. Here.” He handed the bag to Daryl, “Help yourself. I'm Glenn, by the way. Glenn Rhee.”  
Daryl inclined his head in thanks, “This is Merle,” he said, gesturing to his brother who had leaned back against the sofa. “I'm his brother, Daryl Dixon.” He offered his hand to shake.   
Glenn grasped it with a decent grip and shook, “I know who Merle Dixon is,” he admitted, “Never knew he had a brother though.” He studied Daryl as though he was a new breed of animal he had discovered, before heading over to a small wash basin in the left hand corner of the room and filling a dish with water. He set it down on the floor near Daryl's feet as the younger Dixon ripped open antiseptic wipes and began to clean up his brother.   
Merle hissed, swore and squirmed at every touch making his brother’s task more difficult.  
“I'm gonna go make Merle some sweet tea,” Glenn said and made to leave the office.   
Merle snorted which caused him to groan in pain, “Tea?”  
“Yeah,” replied Glenn, “It's good for shock. Daryl, can I get you anything? Coffee maybe?”  
“Coffee’d be good,” Daryl nodded, catching one of Merle's swollen eyes, a message flashing between them. If Daryl could play his cards right, this kid might be his way to secure the bar tending job here. Coffee would clear his head and focus his thoughts.   
Glenn left and Daryl used some cotton wool to clean up the blood from his brother’s face. He observed Merle for a moment. The bleeding from his nose, the cuts to his face and assorted grazes appeared to have stopped. However, Daryl suspected the older man’s nose was broken, and from the way he was holding himself, possibly bruised or even broken ribs. He wondered again what had happened. The world was a dangerous place and accidents happen all the time, but Daryl could recognise a beating when he saw one.   
Daryl leaned forward on the sofa, “What the fuck happened?”  
Merle winced, “Wasn't nothin’”  
“Don't give me that shit, Merle. Who the fuck did this to you?”  
Glenn appeared at the door, carrying a tray. He caught Daryl's question and glanced between the brothers as he handed their drinks out, advising that he had cooled Merle's down considerably. He then took is seat behind the desk again.   
Merle looked at Glenn and sat up straighter, letting out an involuntary groan at the action. He took a sip of his tea gingerly.  
“Merle?” Daryl questioned, wondering what his brother was doing.   
The older Dixon sighed, “Those guys I owe money to. The Carter brothers. This is a warnin’”  
“Fuck,” spat Daryl, his anger rising as Glenn whistled in surprise and raised his eyebrows.  
Daryl's fury was in part directed towards his brother for getting into this situation and also towards the thugs who operated on violence and fear. How were they supposed to raise enough money quickly enough to avoid Merle's certain death? He didn't even know the true figure of the debt, but from his brother's behaviour, he surmised it was considerable.  
Merle was gathering himself to speak directly to Glenn, “I owe a lot of money to the Carters. You heard of them?”  
Glenn grimaced, “Who hasn't? That's some serious trouble you're in.” He sipped his coffee and gave a small sympathetic smile. “I think you should maybe go get checked over at the ER. They're not amateurs, they'll have done you some damage.”  
“My brother there moved here to try to help me get my ass out of this predicament,” Merle explained, subtly raising his eyebrows to Daryl.  
Daryl understood. Digging deep, he called upon the supposed ‘Dixon charm’ and took over the conversation, “See, I was drinkin’ in here tonight, waitin’ on my brother, and I noticed your help wanted sign. So I was goin’ to enquire about the job, hopin’ to make some money to pass onto Merle in his hour of need. Which, as you can see, is very…..needy.”  
“Oh,” Glenn said, looking between the brothers.   
“Now, I dropped everythin’ to move here, so that shows loyalty,” Daryl continued, ignoring Merle's impressed face, “I'm a hard worker and I ain't ever gonna let anyone down. All I ask for is a chance, I'll show you I'm reliable and I need this job for the sake of my brother’s life, so I ain't gonna fuck it up.” Daryl looked across the desk and added, “Excuse my French.”  
Glenn sat back in his seat, sighed and rubbed his eyes, “It’s not really up to me.”   
“I realise that,” stated Daryl, “but surely your boss wants a hard worker who needs this job? It's a matter of life or death for us. What if you give me a week’s trial? I'll do anythin’ and everythin’ and you can sack my ass if I ain't good enough, no arguments.”  
“Mmmm, I don't know Daryl,” Glenn replied, his face genuinely unsure, “I think the priority here is getting your brother to a doctor.”  
Daryl nodded, “But would you at least think about puttin’ me forward for the job?” If Daryl could have deployed puppy dog eyes, he would have.   
Glenn sighed again, “Ok, look. I want to help you out, Daryl.” He looked between the brothers, “She's gonna kill me for doing this. But come back here tomorrow at six. You can have a week’s worth of shifts and we'll see how it goes. I'll go take the sign out of the window, but you swear you'll take him to the ER.”  
“I swear,” Daryl broke out into a genuine smile. “Take my number and text me the details.” He grabbed a blank sheet of paper and a pen and scribbled his cell number down. Ordinarily, he would never have been so confident but he forced any awkward thoughts out of his head. This Glenn didn't know him, he could pretend to be whoever he needed to, the Dixon brothers were in trouble and they had to get out of it by hook or crook.   
Glenn took the number and typed it into his cell. “I'll have to run this by Carol. If I'm not around tomorrow, just know you got me killed.”  
Merle snorted, “She that bad?”  
Glenn shrugged a small smile playing at his mouth, “I can handle her. She's just got a thing about making all the decisions about this place for herself.”  
“I can plead my own case, if she'll meet me,” Daryl offered. He had warmed to this unassuming, genuine kid who had helped them out.   
Glenn laughed, “Oh, she loves hearing a guy plead for her help. Now, please, take Merle to a doctor, he could have internal injuries.”  
Daryl agreed and together with Glenn, they helped his brother down the narrow staircase and hailed a cab.   
Once inside the car, Merle whistled through his teeth, “You did good in there, little brother. Maybe you is a Dixon after all.”  
Daryl rolled his eyes, “Shut the fuck up Merle or I'll bust your nose for ya again.”  
Merle laughed, though it cut off sporadically as he hissed in pain. Daryl sighed, it was going to be a long Friday night. 

***


	4. Saturday 1st July

“C-Carol?” said Glenn tentatively as he sat opposite his boss on the worn leather sofa in the office. He watched as Carol rubbed her temple with her fingers, on which sat a number of intricate silver rings, and the bangles on her slender wrists jangled.   
She inhaled and raised her head, her bright blue eyes fixed on her friend and colleague, “So let me get this straight. You decided to employ the brother of Merle Dixon. Merle Dixon! As our new bar tender?!”  
Glenn grimaced, glancing at the clock on the wall above the door. Daryl would be arriving in an hour for his first shift. “Well, yeah,” he offered, trying to avoid her scrutiny. Her eyes were like soul reading laser beams. “That's how it is,” he exhaled, “Effectively.” He finished lamely.   
“Effectively, you thought us having the brother of the local reprobate working here was a good idea?” She folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. She wore a sleeveless black, slash necked tank, skinny black jeans and battered white converse. Blinking away stray tendrils of her curly dark hair, she waited for Glenn's comeback.   
His shoulders sagged slightly. “I know how it sounds,” Glenn said, “But Daryl came across as a genuinely nice guy, hardly even looks or acts like Merle and he seemed decent.”  
Carol crossed one leg over the other, “Oh well, if the in depth interview you conducted with him showed him to be decent and nice, who the hell am I to argue?” Her tone was only partly sarcastic.   
Glenn visibly relaxed a notch, “He offered to work a full week of shifts and if it doesn’t work out, we can get rid, no questions. So we got nothing to lose,” he shifted in his seat, “I texted him earlier to tell him to wear all black and to be here at six pm on the dot for his induction.”  
“Glenn,” said Carol with a teasing edge to her voice, “You got a crush on this guy or something? You're awfully keen on him working here.”  
“No!” exclaimed Glenn indignantly.  
“You sure?” Carol questioned, a grin spreading across her face and tilting her head so that her messy ponytail swung to the left along with one of her silver hooped earrings. “Because I remember you offering Maggie a job here, a job we didn't even have an opening for, may I add, because you had the hots for her and still do, a year later.”  
Glenn blushed and looked to the floor. “I don't know what you're talking about.”  
Carol threw back her head and laughed, “Sure, Glenn. That's not you following Maggie around with heart eyes.” She nudged Glenn on his shoulder with her hand, “It's real sweet to watch.”  
“Shut up,” moaned her friend.   
“Ok, ok, I'll drop the Maggie thing,” chuckled Carol, “but if this Dixon guy is a loser, I can't promise to not bust your ass.”  
“Just so long as you don't go in on him with your teasing,” chided Glenn. Having started working at the bar part time while attending college, four years later he had graduated with a degree in computer science, but found himself reluctant to step out into the adult world and gain employment in his field.   
“Glenn Rhee,” retorted Carol, smiling, “I have no idea what you're talking about. But if the new guy can't take a little playful banter, this ain't the job for him.”  
Glenn rolled his eyes and secretly hoped that Daryl would impress his boss.   
~   
At 5:55pm, Carol was counting out the cash float when the buzzer for the back door sounded. She quickly closed the drawer of the cash register and checked her reflection in the mirrors that ran along the wall behind the bar. They held clear glass shelves upon which sat bottles of spirits and liquors. She pinched at her cheeks, always something which struck her as odd, but her mother had always sworn it created the right amount of flush to look ‘becoming.’ Whatever that meant.   
She hurried to the back door, pushed down on the heavy handle and allowed it to swing outward with its usual metallic clang. Her breath caught in her throat. It was the stranger from the bar last night.   
Gathering herself she said, “Oh, sorry. I was expecting someone else…”   
A smile played at her mouth and she leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms and looking him up and down. He looked good. Ordinarily, she talked herself out of finding any man attractive, given her past choices in that area, but this guy seemed to be awakening feelings of lust inside of her which had lain dormant for a long time.   
The late afternoon sun was beaming onto his handsome face as he squinted back at her, “Well, I was expecting to meet a guy named Glenn,” his soft, gravelly drawl delighted her ears, “I'm here about a job?” He looked her up and down and licked his lips, he cheeks gently flushed.   
“Oh,” she smiled, “You're the new guy. Merle Dixon’s brother?”   
He nodded a little shyly and averted his eyes to the ground, “That's right. Name’s Daryl.”  
Carol stood aside, “Daryl Dixon, you best come in. We need to get better acquainted.”  
Daryl made to enter the building, casting her a blazing hot look, “Oh yeah?” He asked, hovering adjacent to her, “That sounds promising.”  
“Well, I've never had any complaints,” she teased as he moved past her and she leaned across to slam the back door closed.   
He walked across the small corridor at the foot of the stairs and Carol surveyed the back view, clad in black jeans and a form fitting black t-shirt which stretched across his broad shoulders, his messy light brown hair falling onto his neck. She didn't know if she should thank Glenn for inviting this vision of hotness to be their newest bar tender or chew him out for it, considering she'd have to work in close proximity to the dreamboat every shift. She shook her head slightly. Who even used the word dreamboat?? She needed to get a hold of herself.   
“It's just through that door ahead of you,” she instructed from behind him.   
Daryl opened the door and strolled out into the main bar, having been seen behind the scenes of the establishment the previous night, he remembered the layout. Carol was impressed that he could follow simple instructions, it was a step up from the usual candidates they interviewed.   
“Come take a seat,” she offered, indicating to one of the booths along the back wall. Daryl noticed Glenn was hovering around the DJ booth and they nodded a greeting to one another.   
Once at the booth, Daryl noticed the table had an assortment of bottled spirits, liquor, juices and bottled soda as well as cocktail glasses.   
Carol slipped into one side of the booth and he took the other. They each regarded the other for a moment and the atmosphere was charged.   
“We need to run through a few things,” Carol explained as Glenn arrived at the booth and elected to seat himself beside his boss. “Firstly, I'm Carol and this is my circus. What I say, goes. I make the decisions about this place. That is, I do usually, when my assistant manager isn't taking pity on total strangers. Got it?”  
Daryl nodded, staring at the woman opposite him.   
She took a breath and raised an eyebrow, “I need a Slow Comfortable Screw,” she stated simply, watching for his reaction.   
“Scuse me?!” Daryl asked, a blush spreading up his neck and face like a sponge dipped in water as Glenn groaned quietly and shook his head.   
“He's a blusher,” Carol directed to Glenn, nudging him, “You got us a blusher,” she chuckled, “You need to work on that honey, or the old lushes in this town’ll eat ya alive.”  
Glenn leaned forward, “She actually wants you to make a cocktail,” he explained, “You'll need to have a practice making them. Here's our cocktail menu, you just add the required shots of each drink to the mixer using those metal measuring cups, give it a shake and pour.” The younger man stood and grabbed a laminated leaflet from a high table to the left of their booth.   
Daryl smiled at Carol, “I prefer Sex on the Beach,” he said nonchalantly and set about locating the Sloe Gin, Southern Comfort, Peach Liqueur and orange juice to make the drink Carol had requested.   
“Look forward to it,” grinned Carol, ignoring Glenn's raised eyebrows as he settled back in his seat next to her. “If you can make each drink on that menu, Glenn and I will be your taste testers. That ok?”  
“Sure,” Daryl nodded, chewing his bottom lip, “Ain't you gonna end up drunk though?”  
“Glenn might, he can't handle his liquor,” laughed Carol, “But I ain't such a cheap date.”  
“Shame” Daryl muttered, concentrating on measuring out the designated shots of each spirit into the silver cocktail shaker.   
Glenn's mouth opened and closed in surprise. Unless he was mistaken, he was witnessing Carol flirting with a stranger and that stranger was flirting back. He felt like he should excuse himself and let them exchange heated looks and double entendres without an audience. It was surprising because he hadn't witnessed Carol genuinely flirting with a guy in forever; she played along with leering drinks reps and marketing sales people, of course, but he hadn't seen this side to her, and it was as awkward as sitting through his older sister crushing on someone.   
Twenty minutes later, they discovered that Daryl had a talent for making cocktails, Carol and Glenn had tasted each of the eight they had to offer on the menu and he passed the test with flying colours.   
“You have good wrist action,” observed Carol after sampling the last drink on the menu which was a Cosmopolitan, smiling her wide dimpled smile.   
Daryl snorted. After having tasted his own creations, he was feeling decidedly more relaxed but certainly not drunk, “Stop.”   
Glenn closed his eyes to try to distance himself from the situation, inhaling a deep breath.   
Carol noticed her friend's mortification, “I meant with the cocktail shaker, Glenn. Stop being such a buttoned up old lady.” She laughed and pulled at Glenn's shoulder,, “Did you tell him about our Saturday night special? I think he'd be perfect at it.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.   
“What is it?” enquired Daryl, feeling himself becoming lost in her gaze, as though caught in a rip tide.   
“No,” Glenn started, trying to suppress a grin, “Carol, don't – “  
His boss cut him off, “Well, Daryl. We thought we'd trial a new incentive. Around ten pm, we'd give you a belt with a holster to wear. The belt has small leather loops which hold shot glasses and the holster holds a bottle of spirits, like a flavoured vodka which ain't selling. You'd go out around the place and entice people into buying a shot directly from you for a couple of dollars,” she leaned forwards, “Now, if you were, say, topless, I think we'd make a killing with that face and chest of yours on display and we'd get rid of a lot of the less popular drinks.”   
Daryl tilted his head, a neutral expression on his face, staring at this feisty woman across from him. He narrowed his eyes slightly and gave an exaggerated shrug, “If that's what I gotta do, I'll do it. I need the money for my brother.”  
“Daryl,” Glenn said as Carol laughed, “She's joking. Ignore her. There's no Saturday special, man.” He turned to his boss, “I told you not to bust his ass.”  
Carol held her hands up in mock surrender, “I'm sorry. Maybe he's got a nice ass to bust…couldn't help myself.” She raised an eyebrow at their new employee.   
Daryl laughed, “Don't worry, I grew up with Merle. This is tame. But maybe I'll bust yours someday.”  
“Sure you will Dixon, give it your best shot.”  
“So, do I get the trial run?” Daryl asked, a smile still on his face, his own blue eyes twinkling to match hers.   
“I suppose so,” conceded Carol. “You get to keep any tips you make. You'll probably have all the shitty shifts for now. Come to the office after closing, I'll take your details, fill in the forms and give you your shifts for the next two weeks.”   
Glenn stood, “I’ll clear this lot away, if you want?” He addressed his boss and she nodded.  
“We'll have to open up,” she said, pulling at the key fob attached to her belt with had a retractable cord holding an array of jangling metal keys and a small electronic tab for the cash register. “I'll get you a key for the till, Daryl, I programmed it earlier. It's behind the bar.”  
They entered the bar area and Carol explained the varying prices and procedures and how to take payment. Daryl asked appropriate questions and remembered information well. Frequent crackles of energy passed between them during the intense eye contact they shared.   
Carol found herself rejoicing at the fact that Merle Dixon had gotten himself into such a hole that his brother had rode into town, bringing with him an air of infinite promise for her. 

***


	5. Chapter 5

“So, you'll be ok to work every night except a Sunday?” Carol asked.   
Daryl nodded, sitting on the worn couch in her office, while she reclined, dangerously leaning backwards on the two feet of her chair, her legs inexplicably resting atop all of the clutter of her desk.   
“Ok,” she muttered, somehow managing to remove her limbs from the desk without spilling any of the mess on to the floor. She stood, smoothed down her top. “I'll look for those forms you need to fill in,” she muttered, rooting around amongst the papers.   
Daryl watched as she extracted a pen from the middle of a book, smiled triumphantly and placed it behind her right ear, before turning her attention back to flipping through the many sheets before her.   
He relaxed back against the couch a fraction, his eyes on the woman before him. It was just his luck that his newest boss was incredibly beautiful. Incredibly beautiful with a killer body, the sucker punch being that she had an actual personality. Plus, her ex husband only happened to be the Don Corleone of Woodbury. He rubbed a hand down his face as he watched her. He had almost laughed when she had greeted him at the back door and he'd realised she was the blue eyed firecracker from the night before.   
Then the interview had occurred, their flirting felt natural and his automatic reaction to her teasing was to respond with humour. Now here he was, facing the prospect of having to befriend her to report back to his other new boss, Negan. Seriously though, he thought, how did an asshole like that nab a beautiful, sexy woman like Carol??  
Carol was muttering to herself and scanning the rest of the room, a serious look on her face, not focussing on him. The ordered chaos of her filing system had clearly let her down. She chewed her lip as she tried to remember where the paperwork was.   
“Everythin’ ok?” ventured Daryl, somehow keen to have her attention on him again.   
“What?” Carol asked, preoccupied, “Oh, yeah! Just can't find those damned papers.” She flashed him her wide grin and shrugged, moving across to the office door. There was a landline phone of black plastic attached to the wall to the left of the doorframe, clearly used for internal calls, and she lifted up the receiver, murmuring that Glenn had maybe moved the forms.   
“Maybe this filing system ain't so efficient,” Daryl offered, nodding to the desk and flicking his gaze across to the cluttered bookshelf.   
She chuckled shaking her head, “You sound just like Glenn,” she mused before arranging her face in mock seriousness, “I'll have you know that my filing system is in perfect order. It's just ahead of its time. You'll see.” She punched four numbers into the keypad on the phone and waited while the line rang out. “I hope you're easier to get hold of than damned Glenn,” Carol sighed, slamming the phone down.   
“You can get ahold of me any time you like,” Daryl replied before he could run the statement through his mental filter. He cringed slightly, noticing Carol trying to suppress a smile, colour rising to his cheeks, “I-I meant that I'd be available whenever needed. You know,” he added lamely, “To cover any, er, shifts.”  
She nodded, still biting back a grin, “Well that's good to know,” she raised an eyebrow, “I have some ideas about improving the place, so you could probably pick up extra shifts,” She flicked stray hair from her eyes and sighed. “If I don't find these papers, you'll waste most of your first shift sitting in here with me.” Her eyes were fixed on the shelves of the bookcase to her right, but Daryl suppressed the urge to tell her that being around her anytime was fine by him.   
“Did ya check those desk drawers?” he asked instead, as she moved across to the bookcase and was shifting through books and pads of paper.   
“Oh, no,” she replied, “Would you mind looking? You're looking for a folder with a sticker on the front which says ‘New Starter Pack’.”  
“You sure you want me going through your drawers?” Daryl wondered.   
Carol stopped what she was doing and looked round at him, “Yeah,” she said smiling, “I trust you,” she turned back to her task then added, “I got nothing to hide of any interest anyway.”  
Daryl stood and moved across to the desk. He settled himself in her chair, and glanced over at her while she had her back to him. Impulsively deciding that he should have some information for Negan by the time they met next, he pulled his cell from his pocket and quickly snapped photos of the plans on her desk, making sure he did so silently. Pushing his phone back into his pocket, a wave of guilt crashed over him.   
Carol barely knew him, and had declared that she trusted him. She knew his decidedly untrustworthy brother but had still opted to employ him and now here he was, permitted to roam around her office and gather details on her beloved business for her shitty ex husband. Glenn had also taken a chance on him and helped him get this job, they hadn't even interviewed anyone else and this is how he was repaying them. Anger at Merle's clusterfuck of a life flared, multiplied by anger at himself for allowing his brother to drag him down to this level.   
If he wasn't trapped between a rock and a hard place, he would be relishing the opportunity to get close to Carol without an agenda, other than the fact that she excited and intrigued him. He looked again at the back view of her, saw in his mind’s eye a scenario where he could stroll up behind her, wrap his arms around her slender waist, pull her back against him and bury his head in her hair, before allowing his lips to kiss the undoubtedly soft skin of her neck. The hairs on his arms stood to attention and he licked his lips at the thought. He already knew that she smelled delicious, like a woman a man would be eager to return to, who he'd have to forever be touching and caressing while basking in the glow of her smile, bathing in the sapphire blue of her eyes.   
“You ok?” her musical voice cut through his daydream, “You thinking that maybe you left the stove on at home?” Carol flipped her hair out of her eyes as she looked at him over her shoulder, “I do that all the time.” She chuckled and turned around fully, a figure of a cat made of purple velvet in one hand and a retro troll doll with fluffy green hair in the other.  
He recovered quickly, “Naw,” he adjusted his position on the chair, “Was just wondering if Merle’ok. They gave him pretty heavy painkillers. I mean, he likes that stuff anyways but he could overdo them.” He didn't know why he came up with that excuse, he was concerned about his brother, but why did he feel it was appropriate to disclose his inner thoughts and feelings to a stranger? He should just have made something mundane up. He was surprised that the panic at having opened up a little to her wasn't overcoming him, it actually felt like the most natural thing in the world to have an adult conversation with this woman, she had an air of understanding about her even though they were barely more than acquaintances.   
“Hmmm,” she said, moving across to the desk. “Give him a call if you're worried, I know what it's like to be concerned about a brother. Though mine is a only step one.” She shrugged and set the objects she held down on the shelves above Daryl. As she stretched up, her top ruffled and exposed the stretch of milky skin of her stomach. His eyes were drawn to it and he licked his lips again, blood flowing to his dick which suddenly woke up from its slumber.   
She looked down at him, realised the view he had and raised an eyebrow at him before lowering her arms and stepping backwards.   
“Might call him later,” Daryl informed her, sitting forwards in the seat to cover his excitement.   
Carol tilted her head, “No luck with the drawers?”  
“Oh,” Daryl flushed, “Got distracted, sorry,” he pulled at the top drawer, found it to hold magazines, makeup, hair things, more books and random ornaments. He almost smiled, this woman had odd taste, she was a whirlwind of strange objects, a wicked sense of humour and an eclectic sense of style, but she intrigued him like no other before. “You got enough stuff in this place?” Daryl asked, flicking his eyes up to hers.   
She smiled, “I like ‘stuff’,” she shrugged, “My mom liked anything strange or weird, she said anything that wasn't ordinary was interesting. She took me to flea markets and charity shops and yard sales. Our place was full of junk but we had fun collecting it all and talking about it. Guess her ways rubbed off on me,” Carol looked at Daryl, her face serious, “She liked the black sheep, the underdog, the ridiculed, things that weren't pretty or perfect. At school she encouraged me to be myself, if I didn't fit in, tough shit, I should be true to myself, she said.” She flushed and looked to the floor, “Dunno why I told you all that.”  
“S’ok” he answered, a smile on his lips, “Did it work? Bein’ true to yourself?”  
Carol looked up, her face serious, “I was myself in high school, got ridiculed for being a weirdo who lived with her weirdo family. They thought my mom was a witch,” she laughed, “Then I tried not being true to myself for a while. It doesn't work, though. You can't help who you are. So now I'm back to being the weirdo.”   
“Y’ain’t weird,” Daryl said, still holding her eye.  
Carol laughed musically, gestured to the shelf above him, “Oh yeah?” she asked, shaking her head, “What do you call a chick who actively collects old kid's toys and a lot of crap?”  
“Interestin’” answered Daryl honestly and her ironic grin faded as she realised he was being serious.   
They stared at each other for a moment longer, though the silence between them was charged. He tore his gaze away and closed the top drawer before starting on the bottom one.   
“Bingo,” he muttered after casting aside a comic book, pulling a pink plastic wallet containing the papers they needed out of the drawer.   
“You found it!” Carol declared, beaming, hurrying round to his side of the desk. She took the folder and pulled out the forms, then crouched down next to him. “I need all of your details, filling in, but don't worry, it's not so I can stalk you.” She laughed and he smiled at her. “Now I just need to find that pen…”  
She began rooting around on the desk.   
He put his left hand out and stopped her arm, “Come ‘ere,” he whispered as she turned to face him, now almost in his lap. Their faces were centimetres apart and his eyes raked hers before resting on her mouth. “Pen’s right here,” he said softly, eyes now on hers as he reached up gently and plucked it from behind her ear.   
Carol's heart revved up so fast it pounded in her ears, and she instinctively licked her lips as she placed a hand on his broad shoulder to steady herself.   
Daryl knew he should be blushing but instinct had taken over and having her this close to him felt like he supposed Christmas morning should. When she licked her lips, he gave a stifled groan, fighting himself not to reach up, pull her by the back of her head and crush his lips onto hers.   
“Carol, did you call – oh!” Glenn barrelled into the room, took in the scene before him and froze.   
The spell was broken. Carol had her head turned to Daryl still, but she gave him a small smile and raised an eyebrow at him. She turned.  
“Yes, Glenn, I did call downstairs,” she said briskly as she stood. Glenn’s eyes travelled from his boss to the sheepish looking guy seated at the desk beside her. “It's a good thing it wasn't urgent, isn't it?” She folded her arms, “Lest you actually answer the damned thing when I need you. Luckily, I don't need you at the moment.”  
“No, I can see that,” remarked Glenn, looking amused. “I see you're being welcomed to the team with opening arms, Daryl.” He said, a grin on his face. “I don't recall my induction being quite so friendly…”   
Daryl had been intently studying the paperwork before him, but his head snapped up and he gave a short laugh, “Well, Glenn,” he said, his eyes dancing as he spread his hands in mock innocence, “as Merle says, ya either got it or ya ain't.”   
“Oh, you're gonna get it, if this little scene is anything to go by!” Glenn snorted and Carol hissed, pretending to be shocked, “Sorry for interrupting. I had best go back downstairs, you know, do my actual job.”  
“Yes, you do that Glenn Rhee,” Carol snapped, but her tone was playful, “Il be down in a few minutes, just gotta get Daryl signed up officially and he can come learn the ropes. He can shadow you.”  
Glenn nodded, but eyed Daryl, “I'm sure after what I walked in on, he'd rather shadow you…” The youngster looked at her and snorted again, “Carol, are you – are you blushing?!”  
“No!” Carol retorted, although she was, “Its just a little hot in here!”  
“You can say that again,” muttered Daryl dryly as he caught Glenn's eye and they exchanged amused expressions.   
“Urgh, Glenn, get outta here!” Carol shouted in good natured exasperation as her friend laughed, and turned to leave, closing the door behind him.   
“Sorry about that,” offered Carol, turning to face him, her face slightly flushed as she placed a hand to her forehead, her silver bangles jangling down her arm. “So if you can fill in everything those forms ask for, we'll go get you started on your new career of serving beer. I'm gonna go grab a coffee, you want one?”  
“Yeah, thanks,” nodded Daryl, avoiding her eyes and clicking the nib of the pen on. “Milk, no sugar,” he advised, starting at the first box he had to answer.   
She nodded wordlessly and left the room.   
Daryl took a breath and puffed it out deeply. He was in the middle of a fine mess. His brother was dealing with the possibility of being taken out permanently due to owing a probable fortune to the wrong people, and he himself, had the task of spying on the ex wife of a guy who assassinated anyone who crossed him. Daryl had a feeling he was going to end up crossing Negan. The supposed harmless crush he had on Negan’s ex wife was steadily progressing into having the type of feelings that could not be ignored.  
He doubted the local gangster would take kindly to Daryl having any sort of romantic entanglement with Carol. Which was a shame, because being tangled up with her, preferably in a bedroom setting was the only thing Daryl could think about. He just had to decide if it she was worth diving head first into trouble for.

***


	6. Chapter 6

“Well helllllloooo there!”   
Carol exhaled her cigarette smoke and cast a look at the owner of the smarmy voice. She was stood in the back yard of the bar. It was an open space and a road at the end of it lead down towards the dreaded Lucille’s nightclub.   
Negan stood at the mouth of the yard, a young woman hanging off his arm. Carol recognised his partner as Beth, Maggie’s non identical twin sister. The girl was young enough to be his daughter. Her eyes narrowed in disgust.   
“Aren’t you gonna even say hi now?” he bellowed, shoving a hand in his pocket and leaning forwards with a leer. The girl clinging on to his jacket giggled, her blonde hair loose over her shoulders.   
Carol dropped the cigarette and crushed it under her sneakered foot. She approached the happy couple but remained at least five yards away.   
“Aren’t you subject to a restraining order?” she enquired, her arms folded, eyebrow raised. “Hi Beth,” she nodded, noting the girl’s features held a shadow of guilt at being seen with Carol’s ex husband. Carol wanted to pull the blonde aside and reassure her that the jackass could date whomever he liked, but the girl could do better.   
“Jeeesus!” exclaimed Negan, pulling a face, “I’m glad I’ve been ordered by a judge to keep my goddam distance. You, Carol, don’t look so good. Fuck. Feeling your age, huh?”  
Carol gave a sardonic laugh, “Not so much so that I have to date someone thirty years younger than me.” She cursed herself, she should have ignored his jibe. Whenever she had the misfortune to see him, he tried his best to break or humiliate her. Ideally, she hoped to never have to see him, but their town was small and she did often, unfortunately.   
Negan threw his head back and laughed, “Can’t help that I still got it darlin’.” He pulled Beth closer to him and the girl glanced up adorably.   
Carol shook her head and turned to walk back up to the door leading into the bar, not willing to get into an exchange with him. He relished the back and forth of it all.  
“Enjoy your night, Carol,” Negan shouted, “Could be one of the last nights you have ownin’ that place.”  
Not breaking her pace, she raised her right arm and flipped him the bird backwards. “Blah, blah, blah,” she replied. As she opened the back door and slammed it shut, she could hear his smug laughter echoing around the yard.   
Swallowing her irritation, Carol opened the hatch and stepped behind the bar. It was still early, the place only had a handful of patrons dotted around. Her heart leapt as she spotted Daryl, stood shoulder to shoulder with Glenn, the younger man gesticulating whilst explaining something.   
Daryl was chewing his thumb and she stood for a moment, drinking in his beauty, feeling heat bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Damn, he looked good. That could be a problem. She had sworn off men, although she did date occasionally, but she wasn’t sure she could bring herself to fall for anyone, not least someone she had to work with.   
At that moment, as though sensing her stare, he glanced up, caught her eye and smiled. She tore her eyes away, reaching for a cloth and began wiping down the bar in an attempt to reign herself in. The attraction she felt, the one she knew he shared towards her was dangerous. He had clearly been sent here to test her resolve.   
Glenn left Daryl’s side and walked across the tiled floor behind the bar.   
“You look like thunder,” Glenn observed.   
Carol snorted, “And you sure know how to make a girl feel special.” Sighing she filled Glenn in on the encounter outside and wondered aloud if Maggie knew of her sister’s dalliance with the big bad wolf.   
Glenn exhaled, “I don’t know, I mean, I don’t think they’re that close.” He shrugged, “Beth sounds pretty flighty. Maggie seems to think that their parents let her get away with murder. But I’m sure they wouldn’t happy at her being with that asshole.” He grimaced. Glenn Rhee didn’t even dislike many people, but he had a special hatred for Negan.   
“You any further forward in asking Maggie out?” asked Carol, “She likes you.”  
Glenn looked puzzled, “She doesn’t act like it,” he lamented.   
Carol plucked a hair from his black shirt, “She’s waiting on you making the first move, I’ve told you before. She’ll be arriving for her shift soon along with Tara. Man up. Do it.”  
“Will you distract Tara?” groaned Glenn. Maggie and Tara attended college together, working shifts in the bar to help them financially. “She busts my balls almost as bad as you do. It’s like she knows I have the hots for Maggie and goes out of her way to embarrass me.”  
“Honey, the world and his wife knows you have a thing for Maggie.” Carol laughed, glancing over Glenn’s shoulder at Daryl who was busy serving Betsey Harper, the local librarian who had just recently gotten divorced from her husband. Betsey was in her late forties, dyed red hair which was curled and teased into an elaborate bouffant atop her head, and she favoured 50s style dresses in bright colours. The woman stood at the other side of the bar, watching the younger Dixon work at uncorking the bottle of wine for her group of friends, nudging the large woman beside her to take notice of the man serving them.   
“Yeah, well, I’m not the only one round here with the hots for someone,” teased Glenn, smiling.   
“What are you talking about?” Carol played innocent, flicking her eyes back to her friend.   
“You,” stated Glenn nodding at her, “and him,” he continued, jerking his head backwards in Daryl’s direction, “you two need to get a room.”  
“Aw, Glenn,” smiled Carol, “It’s just a little harmless flirtation. But nothing has to come of it.” She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince herself or him.   
Glenn looked serious, “Sure it doesn’t. Just,” he paused, searching her eyes, “Just remember. You deserve happiness. Don’t shut anything down, just because of your past with you know who.”  
Carol folded her arms, “Ok, Rikki Lake. I won’t.” She rolled her eyes. “How’s he doing anyway?” She asked.   
“He’s a quicker learner,” Glenn informed her, “I know he’s Merle’s brother, but I don’t think they’ve been in touch for years. And he seems genuine if a little abrupt.”  
“When the others get here at eight, I need to introduce them to him.” Carol muttered. “Hopefully we’ll have no issues. I hate having to recruit new people.”  
Glenn nodded as Daryl approached. The younger Dixon flashed a quick smile, probably aware that he was being discussed.   
“I’ll get you introduced to everyone once they get here for their eight o’clock shifts, if that’s ok?” Carol asked, one of her hands playing with the earring hanging from her lobe. She felt suddenly self conscious, under his gaze, she wanted to be around him as she had been earlier when she’d almost ended up in his lap, but she also wanted to remain aloof and distanced.   
“Sure,” replied Daryl with his easy tone, “You’re the boss.”  
“And don’t you forget that!” Glenn mocked a high pitched voice and wagged his finger, trying to imitate his friend.   
Carol laughed and punched his shoulder, “Do you want me to distract Tara so you can talk to Maggie or not, Mr Rhee?”  
Glenn nodded eagerly.   
“Then start being nice to me,” she warned.  
“If this gets me a date, I’ll be the nicest anyone’s ever been to you, I swear.” Glenn admitted, his eyes shining.   
“Glenn here, has a huge crush on Maggie, who’ll you’ll meet soon. He’s only taken a year to work up to asking her out,” Carol filled Daryl in, her eyes shining, “But if they do go out and get married, after this, I want their first born named after me.” She nudged Glenn and he laughed as she turned and walked further down the bar to serve a group of rowdy college guys who wolf whistled as she approached.   
Daryl felt a stab of something akin to jealousy as she played along with the younger group’s antics. Glenn followed his new friend’s gaze.   
“I hope it’s not gonna take you a year to make a move,” mused Glenn, both men watching their boss.   
Daryl snorted, “I ain’t takin’ no advice from you. Sounds like you’re as clueless as me.”  
“So you are single then?” enquired Glenn, eager to gather some information to pass on to Carol.   
“Yep,” he shrugged, then noticed Glenn’s look of understanding, “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had plenty of women, just none of ‘em lasted longer than a night. If you catch my drift.”  
Glenn raised his head knowingly, “I get it,” he sighed, “But if you want any advice on Carol, it’s just, to be honest, be yourself. She’s got a massive issue with liars and game players.”  
Daryl felt a twist of guilt in his guts, he was already lying to her. Before their conversation could continue, a girl with dark, shoulder length hair bounded into the area behind the bar, and typed her login details into the cash register.   
“Glenn!” she shouted, beaming. She walked over. “Who is this?”   
“This is Daryl,” said Glenn as Tara bounded forwards and shook his hand, “Daryl, this is Tara. And this,” he said his voice changing slightly, “Is Maggie.”  
A tall, slim young woman with longer brown hair and hazel eyes appeared behind Tara.   
“Who’s this?” Maggie asked, smiling.   
“Daryl,” offered Tara, “Has a look I feel is familiar.…looks to be mid to late thirties so we didn’t go to school together…” She looked at Daryl intently.   
Daryl gave a small smile, “I’m Merle Dixon’s brother, hi,”  
Tara and Maggie exchanged surprised looks, “Didn’t know ol’Merle had any family.” Tara said honestly, “I always get the ‘it’s Merle Dixon against the world’ speech. Kinda always sounded like he had no one close.”  
Daryl nodded, that sounded a lot like his brother’s usual mentality. It was always someone else’s fault.   
“Urm, speaking of family,” started Glenn, tugging at Maggie’s arm.   
Tara moved off to serve some customers, waving to Carol who was still entertaining the college guys.  
“Erm, Beth seems like she could be dating Negan,” stated Glenn, studying Maggie’s face for a reaction.   
Daryl’s interest piqued at the mention of his other boss. If Negan was seeing some other woman, his interest in Carol could wane and Daryl would be free to get as close as he wanted to her.   
“Who’s Beth?” Daryl asked.   
“My twin. Non identical,” Maggie’s face darkened, “Why would she date that jerk? He’s like fifty years old?! She always had a thing for older guys but Mom and Daddy will freak at this. She’s unbelievable. I’m going to text her right now, find out what’s going on. How do you know?”   
Glenn sighed, “Carol saw them out back earlier.”  
Daryl’s gaze flicked to Carol who was collecting empty glasses and bottles from the bar. She didn’t appear upset at having seen her ex with some younger girl.   
Maggie groaned, “So she has no shame now either.” She pulled her cell from the pocket of her jeans, fired off a message and placed the device back. She then moved off to serve some drinks, not looking amused.  
The night moved on, Daryl was introduced to the DJ, a mulleted man by the name of Eugene, who Glenn declared was a musical genius. Eugene simply said ‘hello’, nodded and went back to his music.  
The bar became busier and there was no time to talk, Daryl lost track of how many drinks he had poured, how many times he’d smiled and nodded at drunken people.   
Nearer closing time, the patrons thinned out as they moved on to clubs, but Carol managed to distract Tara enough that Glenn got Maggie on her own during a break.   
Returning to the bar, fifteen minutes later, Glenn grinned at his boss like a cat who had gotten the cream and she winked back at him. Daryl noticed the exchange and smiled to himself.   
Shortly before closing, a blonde woman in her forties seated herself in a stool at the bar.   
Carol approached her, “Andrea!” she exclaimed, “I thought you had a date?”  
Andrea groaned, rolling her large blue eyes and mused her curled blonde hair, “Disaster. I don’t know why I bother, I really don’t. I’ll need a glass of wine, large.”  
“Usual?” asked Carol laughing. Andrea was her best friend, they had been there for each other through thick and thin.   
“Usual,” agreed Andrea. She caught sight of Daryl who was finishing up serving further down the bar. “Who’s the hot stuff?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.   
“He’s Daryl, new bartender,” informed Carol, “Hey Daryl!”   
He threw down the cloth he had used to mop up the bar and walked towards the two women.   
“This is my best friend Andrea,” Carol told him, nodding to the blonde who eyed him like he was dessert after a meal. “She works a couple of shifts during the week while she’s at law school.”  
Carol motioned with her head towards him, “This is Daryl. Daryl Dixon. Merle’s younger brother.” She kept her eyes on her best friend as the other woman’s face fell.   
“Merle’s brother?” Andrea spluttered, unbelieving.   
“Yeah,” confirmed Daryl, “Seems like he ain’t told nobody about me. Startin’ to get a complex.” He scratched the back of his neck, noticing the blonde looked aghast.   
“Well, what brought you to town all of a sudden?” asked Andrea, flicking her eyes from Daryl to Carol.   
Her friend stepped in, “Merle has a little bit of a situation that he needs his brother’s help with.”  
“He’s in some kind of trouble, isn’t he?” Andrea guessed, he eyes darkening. “Son of a –“ she muttered, more to herself than anyone.   
Puzzled, Daryl looked to Carol, then to Andrea, “He owes some people some money. You know Merle?”  
Andrea snorted, “Unbelievable. I can’t believe he hasn’t mentioned anything. Asshole.” She looked to Daryl, “And yes, I do know your brother. But if you want that particular story, you should ask him about it.”  
With that, she grabbed her purse, downed her almost full drink and stormed out without a backwards glance. 

***


	7. Chapter 7

“I can’t believe I gave you this chance and you screwed it up! Again!”  
Daryl could hear the shrill female voice as he walked up the tiny path to the trailer he shared with his brother. He winced. Merle was obviously on the receiving end of some earache from whichever chick had fallen for his lines. Not that his brother was in any fit state to be hooking up; the doctors had warned him to take it easy.   
Glancing at his watch he saw it was approaching two a.m.   
He could hear Merle mumbling some reply to the incensed woman and Daryl seriously considered sleeping in the truck which was parked in the driveway of sorts. Although, he doubted that was far enough away to avoid listening to a screaming match. Hesitating at the front door of the trailer, he turned, strolled back down the path and started walking. He needed to think.   
He almost wished he could just jump onto the beloved motorcycle he’d been forced to sell and drive anywhere. To the ocean, maybe. To sit atop some high cliffs astride his bike, listening to the ebb and flow of the sea, so deep and invitingly mysterious. He’d close his eyes, feel the wind caressing his hair, whispering in his ears and he’d know peace for a while. He itched to flee, to put as much distance between himself and Merle as possible, to completely avoid the impending pain awaiting him, should he stay in this town.   
Not only was Merle’s situation completely fucked, but Daryl himself was in a similar bind, having sold his soul to the Devil. Damned. Nothing good would come out of their employment with Negan, except maybe a quick death if their boss was feeling merciful. He walked along the almost silent sidewalk, his eyes fixed on the ground, the beat of his stride comforting him as his brain worked around his predicament.   
Daryl knew he was being pessimistic, but he had endured a surreal week, moving here, finding out ever more worrying details about Merle’s debt, gaining two new jobs in this place where everyone knew everyone else, but they were all seemingly oblivious to the seedy underworld operating out of the picturesque buildings.   
He was so very far out his comfort zone, he suspected that this one huge set up, like one of those shows on MTV. He half expected some grinning, inane TV presenter to jump out of the bushes surrounded by video cameras….  
No, reality was that this was his life now. Suddenly he’d exchanged a life by his beloved sea for dealing with gangsters and spying on some woman. He sighed, stopped walking and looked around.   
Daryl realised he was back near Main Street, opposite Jimmy’s, in fact. An ornate bench beneath a huge tree beckoned him and he sat, patting the pockets of his jeans first for his lighter and cigarettes.   
Lighting one up, he exhaled the smoke up to the sky, noting the masses of stars twinkling up there. His eyes fell back onto the bar where he worked and he noticed an area built above the roof of the office and staff room.   
It was extended up from the top story, similar to an annexe, he supposed. Around the edge of the roof was black metal railings, although they were interspersed with a black gate on the right, which sat at the top of the fire escape running up that side of the building. The annexe looked to have floor to ceiling windows making up the outside of the front of the construction, which held a French door. Lights were on beyond that wall of windows, and if he squinted, he could see movement inside the structure.   
From the set up on the balcony, fairy lights twinkling around the wrought iron railings, the potted outdoor plants, the picnic bench and reclining garden chairs, he’d say someone lived in that annexe. He could hear a tinkling of wind-chimes on the breeze and if he had any spare money, he’d bet that a certain blue eyed, curly haired bar owner called that place home.   
At least he knew where she lived. He guessed that Negan knew her address so stumbling upon her home would not earn him any kudos, plus she didn’t exactly appear to be trying to hide the fact that she lived above her bar.   
Daryl sighed, taking another drag on his cigarette, his eyes squinting up at where he knew she was. So near yet so far.  
She was the other reason that his mind was in overdrive. The thought of her spread across his mind like oil on water, shimmering and beautiful, adding a complexity of colours to it.   
He had never before met someone who had knocked him off kilter like she had. He barely knew her, realised he didn’t even know her surname yet, so it was insane, that the old cliché of being hit with a lightning bolt rang true with her. She had some draw about her which made him feel like she’d always been in his life and that scared him, but there was excitement too.   
Keeping his eyes on the shadows moving in her apartment, he wondered what she was doing. Unwinding after a long shift in the bar, showering perhaps, to remove the smells of spilled liquor from her alabaster skin. He shook himself a little, feeling like a creep, sitting outside the beautiful woman’s apartment alone late at night.   
“Get a fuckin’ grip,” he thought to himself as he stubbed out his smoke and stood. An hour at least has passed since he’d stood at his front door about to walk into a battlefield, surely it had calmed down by now.   
Retracing his steps, but forcing his mind to remain blank by concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, he was soon back at the place he now called home.   
Suddenly the flimsy front door flew opened and the blonde woman called Andrea hurried out of the trailer, her face a mask of fury. Without a glance at the younger Dixon, she headed towards a battered Chevy parked on the sidewalk, wrenched the door open and threw herself inside. Seconds later she tore away from the kerb, leaving Daryl standing at his door, confused.   
Once inside the trailer, he pulled the door closed behind him and found Merle sitting on the threadbare couch, feet up on the battered coffee table, swigging from a bottle of dark rum and staring into the dark space before him.   
“What the hell, Merle?” wondered Daryl, genuinely puzzled.   
Merle sat silently for a few moments, and Daryl was about to repeat his question when his older brother sighed loudly, still staring straight ahead.  
“What was that blonde chick doin’ here Merle?” Daryl seated himself in the easy chair opposite, his eyes on his brother. “No offence, but she probably ain’t your usual type.”  
Merle snorted. “She ain’t.” He reached for his cigarettes, took one and lit it up.  
Daryl felt impatience bubbling through his veins. “You gonna start tellin’ me exactly what the deal is here?”  
“You know the deal, brother,” responded Merle, finally turning his tired eyes onto the younger man, taking a drag on his smoke, his face expressionless.   
Sighing, Daryl rubbed his own eyes, “Funny. Cos she stormed outta here like a bat outta hell. And I met her at Jimmy’s tonight. She said I should talk to you about how you two know each other.”   
Merle sighed again and returned to staring into space.   
“Hey!” anger flared through Daryl, “I gave up everythin’ to come here and help your sorry ass! Now I’m workin’ for some nut job who kills people for fun and your having seven shades o’shit beat outta you. So start talkin’ and it better be the fuckin’ truth or I’m gone. Don’t care about the money you owe or fuckin’ Negan, I know you’re holdin’ somethin’ back!”  
The elder Dixon laugh mirthlessly. “You wanna know, huh?”  
Daryl nodded, folded his arms across his chest and waited, not trusting himself to say anything.   
“Ok,” Merle started, nodding to himself, “Blondie there is called Andrea, but you probably already know that.” His eyes flicked to his brother. “She’s real mad at me for a coupla reasons. So, here goes.”  
He took a drag on his cigarette and winced as though in pain, blowing out a plume of smoke.   
“I did have a thing with her, ‘bout ten years ago. She ain’t my usual type, like you said. Too feisty, too mouthy. Some would say, too classy I suppose, but what the fuck would they know? Anyways, we was together almost a year and she loved every second with ol’Merle.”  
“And?” Daryl asked, almost dreading the answer.   
“We split up when I cheated on her,” shrugged Merle, a far-away look in his blue eyes. The sky outside was beginning to lighten up and the elder Dixon had an air of weariness about him.   
Daryl almost dreaded the answer when he found himself asking, “Who with?”  
Merle shrugged again, “Some young chick hanging around one of the bars in town. Couldn’t tell you her name, but she came on to me and I’m weak,” he spread his hands in mock innocence, “She wore me down this one Friday night. Never seen her before and I ain’t ever seen her since.”  
The younger Dixon realised he had been holding his breath and released it. For a truly awful second he had feared that his brother had engaged in an illicit dalliance with Carol.   
“And?” he prompted again.   
Merle shook himself and took a swig of liquor. “Andrea found out, chewed me out and kicked me out. I’d been stayin’ at her place but she dumped my ass in a second. I moved back here and carried on livin’ my life. But goddamn, if I didn’t miss her.” He glanced up at Daryl and grimaced, “Course, that ain’t the end of the story. She left town, went to live with her parents. Didn’t see her for ‘bout four years. She skips back into town with a kid in tow. Says it’s mine. Can you believe it?”  
“What?” Daryl spluttered, looking around as if expecting to see a child hidden in the shadows.   
“Yep. Turns out I’m a dad.” Merle nodded in a matter of fact way and shrugged again. He removed his feet from the coffee table and placed them on the floor.   
“You shittin’ me?” asked Daryl, suddenly realising that the situation Merle was in was more serious than he thought.   
“Nope,” his older brother said, his gaze fixed on the floor beneath his feet, “His name is Luke, he’s nine and you’ll meet him tomorrow.”   
Daryl blew out a breath and sat in stunned silence. What the hell had he actually gotten himself into?

***


End file.
